


be my dog, i'll be your tree

by goodnightfern



Series: Up for the Down Stroke [3]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Disassociation, Hallucinations, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, whats the mkaz tag???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: Commander Miller just needs to give the medic his tapes back.Prologue/sidepiece/deleted/tangentially related to The Man from Cyrene.





	be my dog, i'll be your tree

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as a deleted scene to The Man from Cyrene but instead i slapped on a Parliament title and posted it alone because it really, really doesn't belong there at all and there's not much here beyond my indulgent medic headcanons lmao. Kaz does make a direct reference to this, though.
> 
> Written for the vkaz week ??? for the prompt ???

**1974**

Nuke won’t move from the stack of personnel files. He sighs, not having the heart to kick her off. Besides, tonight is supposed to be everyone’s night off. 

Not for Pouncing Duck, though, and not for the medic. He changes her IV, humming to himself. Checks her vitals. The surgery went nicely, and she’s in a deep morphine-induced sleep. 

The past few weeks on Mother Base have been peaceful. Odd how he's come to find days of peace. When he first turned his attention from animal to human medicine he'd gone straight for the front lines. Where he was needed, as he'd learned that night in - 

The medic blinks it back. He’s not there anymore. 

He leaves the doors open between the room and his office, so he can still see her from across the hallway. Takes a seat at his desk and listens to Nuke purr. The windows are open, letting the sounds of the distant party and the damp heat in, and it’s nice to put his feet on his desk. Tilt his head back. He’s got a patient right now, but he thinks dreamily of the gram of reefer he’s got squirreled away somewhere. He doesn’t get high very often, but it’s still a nice way to spend a night. Good weed, good music - no, he left his tapes with someone else.

“Hey, doc.”

Miller’s bright and buzzed from the party. His smile is private, sweet, and his fingers flex around a bottle of beer. The cut on his cheek has healed nicely. “Party’s out here,” he says, jerking his head.

“I’m good.”

“What, you don’t like to party?”

“Hah.” He looks down at his desk. Drinking isn’t good for him. Makes him want to do stupid things. “Just not really my scene.” 

“Mmm. Liar.” Miller saunters in his office, acting like he’s super interested in all the files and X-rays and postcards and photos and shit he’s got pinned to the walls. “Oh, hey, kitty,” he says upon finding Nuke. He hitches himself up on the desk beside her, scratching her ears, and she purrs and stretches for him. 

He hasn’t seen the Commander like this in a long time. After the sauna he’d been subdued. Turning his head away. Almost demure, really. 

It doesn’t bear thinking about.

He respects his Boss. Snake who pulled him from his fugue and gave him a reason to live again. Snake who truly brought him home. The living legend who acts like a stubborn baby when he needs his lepto shot. Their sex life is none of his business.

Miller’s so close, though. Dressed down, his coat off and scarf somewhere else, smelling faintly of clean laundry. From this angle he can catch his eyes from beneath his shades.

Miller isn’t half as drunk as he’s pretending to be. Everyone knows he isn’t allowed to get drunk anymore, but Snake is off-base right now. There’s still barely two sips missing from the bottle.

Right. Snake is off-base, Miller’s off his chain, and he just so happened to stop by. 

He’s not going to shove Miller off his desk. But he doesn’t know what to do. Miller’s awfully cute when he thinks he’s being crafty. 

If anyone's the asshole it's him. No, he was too good for a quickie in the sauna. Like he could possibly compete with the Boss himself.

“So… how’d that Parliament work out for you?” he asks. Music is a safe topic. 

“Parlia- oh. Yeah, it’s good. It's funny. Sorry I don’t have it with me. I keep meaning to bring your tapes back, I'm just busy all the time and - “

“It’s okay. Just make a copy for yourself or something.”

“Yeah. I will.”

“Getting too quiet around here.”

He shifts a little higher on the desk. Realizes just how close they are and takes a sip of his beer. “You know, I missed out on all that when I was in the States. I mean, I always liked jazz, but this, all your stuff is completely different. It’s cool.”

“Hm. I’ll have to scare up some more of that funky stuff for you.”

“I was only there for a little bit. Went to school, mostly. I didn’t see so much of the country.”

“You didn’t miss out on much.”

“Where are you from?”

“America.”

“I figured that much.”

“Does it matter? MSF is the only nation I need.”

Fuck the United States. The jungle grows so fast here, smothering and crawling over the past. On Mother Base the horizon is endless. 

“I just don’t know much about your past, I guess,” Miller is saying, slowly spinning the bottle in his hands. “Can’t blame a guy for being curious. You’re an interesting guy.”

What does he want to know about? Getting his head kicked in. His lover’s guts spilling between his fingers. Oozing wounds on a five year old kid. The smell of week-old corpses in a swamp. His hands aren’t shaking because he’s a professional.

“I don’t believe in the past.”

Miller stares at him. 

“I mean,” he says, hastily. “Memories are unstable. Once the past is past - it’s nothing. Dwelling on it removes us from the present. Stains the future and taints the here and the now. What’s the point?”

“Memories are what make us who we are,” Miller says. It’s not an argument, just a point. “Without them, we’d have no personality. No sense of self.”

“The self is only what his actions determine him to be.” The only thing he’s always been is a healer. That’s what Big Boss took him for. That’s the only identity he needs. “All that’s worth living for is right here, in the infinite moment.”

“That bad, huh.”

He laughs. “What do you want to know, Commander? I was just some hippie kid till I became an EMT. After the draft I went to ‘Nam until they kicked me out for being a queer. That’s it. Satisfied?”

Miller raises an eyebrow. “You, a hippie?”

“Hair down to here.”

“You got drafted?”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“Can't have been easy for you. A certain level of cognitive dissonance can be a survival tactic.” Miller hasn’t taken off his shades. He hates those fucking sunglasses. “The mind develops a shield against conflicting information. I... wouldn't know what it's like. Being forced into something like that.” 

He’s said too much. He should have just kept deflecting until Miller got bored. 

Screw the Commander.

Miller thinks he can just come in and mess with his head. Get to know him. When they both know damn well the Boss is due back tomorrow morning. Whatever game Miller is playing, he doesn’t want in. If Miller’s unsatisfied in his relationship, that’s his own problem entirely. 

The medic’s been pushed around and used enough. MSF is the first place he’s ever been able to stand on his own two feet, and he's not letting his dick get him in trouble. 

“You done psychoanalyzing me?” 

“Sorry, doc.” His head tips down. The lights of the medbay catch the gold in his hair. “No, I get it. I like it. Living for the moment.” He licks his lips.

“I’ve got a patient, Commander. If you’ll excuse me?”

Miller swallows. “I’ll let you get back to work,” he says, shifting off the desk. He gives Nuke one last scratch on the ears before leaving.

The medic stares at his own steady hands. Nuke purrs. The sound of the party kicks up again, and somewhere in there is the faint strain of a guitar.

The medic stays up all night.

 

 

**1984**

Venom hears the faint strain of a guitar. 

He follows the sound, down a set of stairs, behind shipping containers, and sees a few Diamond Dogs hosting their own private party. He should say something. Bust it up. Join them. 

It’s just - his head is hurting. He went to see Paz again and it’s exhausting, waiting for some kind of response. Praying that she’ll look at him with real recognition in her eyes. 

There’s nothing he can do for her. 

He’s tired. The guitar is soothing, the staff members laughing as the sweet smell of marijuana drifts. Venom knows about the secret grow room on support. Kaz would kill him for not ratting, but he doesn’t mind. Let them have their fun. 

Maybe he should take some of that for himself. His head is killing him; he needs to find Quiet. She’s got this thing she does. Where she applies pressure in the right places and the parasites tingle his skin, igniting his nerves. Softly humming throughout, giving him something to hold on to.

Playing music is a good way to summon her. She likes some of the tapes Kaz gave him a while back. That funky stuff. He leaves the party behind. Goes up to where he can see the sea. On Mother Base the horizons are endless. The music dances among the stars. 

Maybe it’s better that Quiet doesn’t show up. D.D does, which is enough. Venom doesn’t want to make Kaz angrier. 

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing with Quiet. What exactly he feels in their shared silence. But something as essential and all-encompassing as love shouldn’t be exclusive or hoarded away. He isn't even attracted - 

Yes. He is. There was Eva. 

Venom once broke a sauna bench with Kaz’s face to teach him a lesson about monogamy. He had to do it. Kaz was sticking it wherever he wanted behind his back. 

God, his head hurts.

He doesn’t know what’s happening. Why he can’t remember Eva. He loved her. He was wildly attracted to her.

Quiet’s long gone anyways.

Quiet is probably dead and he took all her pictures down. Kaz isn’t speaking to him and he doesn’t remember what they fought about. Paz is pulling out her stitches.

Venom pulls his dog close. Puffs on his cigar. 

Drifts.

“Boss!” 

Kaz is snapping down at him. Venom blinks. It’s morning. Kaz's lip is curled, his breath hot and rasping. “What the hell is your problem, Boss?”

He blinks at him. “You’re mad.”

“Of course I’m pissed, I’ve been trying to get your attention for - “

“Seems like you’re always angry with me.”

“Maybe if you weren't so _goddamn -_ " he stops. Sighs. "Fine. You know what, fine.” He sits down, kicking out his prosthetic leg and leaning on his crutch with a wince. “Let’s talk about it.”

“About what?”

“Everything. All the reasons why I’m just so damn angry at you.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Venom shakes his head. “I’m not - they’re all gone.”

Maybe Huey is dead, bones on the seafloor. Maybe he killed Quiet in the ruins. It doesn’t matter. It all turned out the same. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not talking about the past. It’s over and done with.”

“Snake, that’s -”

“...I don’t believe in the past,” Venom says, and that truth has been waiting inside him for a long time. Saying it aloud feels good, feels right. “What’s the point?”

Kaz falls silent. Stares at him while Venom brings his cigar to his lips again. Doesn’t accept any help to get back on his feet before hobbling away.

Venom smokes. D.D. runs off, barking and leaping after some staff member or another. The sun burns and his head hurts.

Damn it. 

He’s lucky to have Kaz. He knows that. When he’d pulled him out of Afghanistan he hadn’t expected anything. But Miller was his - still his, after nine years, and he could touch him without fear of him slipping away or someone else -

There was always someone else. That’s why he had to -

The pain never ends. 

Ocelot doesn’t seem to approve of their fighting, but he’s the one riling Miller up half the time. For some reason Ocelot endlessly frustrates him, but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s not right to feel that way about one of his oldest friends. He trusts Ocelot.

When Ocelot says Miller is indisposed and went early to bed, he only nods. 

“I should check on him,” he says lamely. “Make sure he’s okay.”

Ocelot smiles. He looks happier than he normally does. It makes Venom happy. “You do that, Boss.”

It’s only eight in the evening but Miller’s already half passed out in the makeshift bedroom behind his office. There’s dim lamplight from the office and his shades are off, T-shirt rucked up along his belly. His stumps are naked. Sometimes, when Kaz looks vulnerable like this... 

Venom doesn’t know what to say to him. He wanted to apologize for something. It’s warm in here, and Kaz is smiling so sweetly.

“Snake?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on over here.” He’s not quite slurring. A migraine left him feeble, the medication made him sleepy. That’s what Ocelot said. 

Snake sits beside him on his bed. Kaz, curled up on his side, reaches and runs his fingers down his arm. 

Venom swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What for?”

He shrugs. “We were fighting.”

Kaz laughs. Drags him down by his arm. “That’s a damn shame. What about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Aw, Snake. I don’t wanna be mad at you,” Kaz declares, nuzzling him. “Whatever it was, I’m over it. Come here.”

Venom laughs. Holds him off while he undresses. Unbuckles his straps, leaves his fatigues in a pile and curls around his partner. Kaz is happy and so Venom is happy. Kaz pulls the pins from Venom’s hair, tugs it out of the ponytail and kisses him lazily. Noses his way down Venom’s body to find his thickening cock - 

No. Kaz is drugged, and they've been fighting. He shouldn’t be doing this with Kaz at all. Shouldn't have started in the first place - 

“Snake? What’s wrong?” Kaz sounds so lonely when Venom pulls away. He slides to the floor, rests with his back against the cot. Kaz’s arms slide down over his shoulders. “Come back to me.”

“I just -” Venom struggles, his tongue suddenly thick. “My head.”

“Mm. Ask Ocelot,” Kaz says with a sloppy nuzzle. “Gave me the… good stuff.” 

His head smashes into Venom’s neck, hair tickling. Venom wraps his arms around his knees. He wants to go to the zoo and hang out with his goats. He wants to go to the beach and feel sand between his toes. He wants to get back on the bed and wrap his arms around Kaz and just hold him. 

But Kaz is snoring now and if he moves he’ll wake him up. 

The pain keeps him up all night.


End file.
